


call me home and I will build a throne

by BensCalligraphySet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Actress Rey, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Director Ben Solo, F/M, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, award shows, the BAFTAs happened and I had feelings about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BensCalligraphySet/pseuds/BensCalligraphySet
Summary: Hotshot indie director Ben Solo is known for two things: his avant-garde movies and his reclusiveness. For the first time in years, he makes an appearance at a red carpet event.The motive? His leading lady is one of the front runners in the Best Actress category.The secret? She’s not just the leading lady of his latest movie.She’s the leading lady of his heart.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 191
Kudos: 1053
Collections: Galactic Idiots Collection





	call me home and I will build a throne

_‘Rey! REY!’_

_‘To your left!’_

_‘Miss Jackson, who are you wearing?’_

_‘Over the shoulder, please, Miss Jackson!_

The flashing cameras look like fireworks. Too close, and just as scary. Rey makes sure her smile doesn’t falter, even though her cheeks hurt, her feet ache and she hasn’t had any food since the burger she inhaled hours ago in her hotel bedroom, before her team of stylists swooped in and worked their magic.

And now she’s here. At the red carpet of the BAFTA, in cold, dreary London, wearing a gauzy dress and two pounds of makeup. And there are people shouting at her from every direction. _Wonderful_. 

_‘Rey, over here! Miss Jackson! Look over here!’_

She turns diligently, making sure to face the cameras with her good side (the left) and to give them an unobstructed view of the details of her dress (all while tucking in her stomach). 

It’s all bullocks, and she hates it, but it’s part of the job. If it were up to her, promotional tours wouldn’t be a thing and award shows would just be something she could watch from the comfort of her home, in cozy pajamas and fuzzy slippers while drinking wine and inhaling pizza. Like she used to do before she became famous. 

Before _Divorce Story._

Before Ben Solo. 

Being cast in one of Solo’s movies is something Rey — a twenty-two year old newbie whose acting credits before this amount to small guest star roles on a few CW shows — could never have dreamed of. She auditioned because she didn’t have anything to lose and because something about the role of Gemma, a twenty-five year old woman stuck in a loveless marriage to an older man, appealed to her on a very personal level. Not because of her situation, but because of the way she was written — so real, so raw, so incredibly human and multilayered that Rey felt like she was reading an autobiography. 

The fact that it was written — and would be directed — by Ben Solo was more than a little intimidating. 

His reputation precedes him: obsessive, compulsive, difficult to work with, unpleasant to be around and pretentious to a fault. But no one could deny that he was talented. His movies went from little art house indies to full blown commercial successes without ever losing their _‘artistic integrity’_ as entertainment reporters liked to call it. Every film he made became a critically acclaimed box office hit. Nowadays, that was a rare and potent combo. 

.

  
  


Rey lands the audition partly thanks to her friend Rose, a production assistant at Sony, and partly due to luck. The girl who was supposed to audition that day flaked at the last minute and suddenly, there was an open spot. Rey never ran so many red lights in her life. 

She gets to the office where the auditions are being held with five minutes to spare, out of breath and sweating like a sinner in church. She has to fish her hands and stick them in her pockets to keep from shaking, but as soon as she walks into that room and looks Ben Solo in the eye — and sees his bored, cold eyes grow interested, grow hungry — all of that falls away. 

“Miss Jackson, I presume?” His voice is warm and deep. Pleasant. Rey nods. He clears his throat before continuing. 

“I trust that you’ve come prepared.” It isn’t a question and he doesn’t phrase it like one. He expect her to be ready. Rey doesn’t bristle at his condescending tone — she _has_ come prepared. She nods again.

“Yes, sir.” 

Ben Solo’s eyes bore into hers. It would be unsettling, were she not staring back just as intently. 

He leans back against his chair and gives her a polite nod. 

“Whenever you’re ready.”

She knows her lines. She knows her character. And by the time her audition is over and she turns her eyes over to the director and sees him looking absolutely floored, she knows she has it. 

.

  
  


_‘Miss jackson, over here, please!’_

Rey walks over to where the reporters are standing, microphones in hand, ready to pounce as soon as she gets close enough for the cameras to zoom in on her face. First in line in a leggy blonde who announced herself as an iTV4 correspondent. 

“Rey, how does it feel to be nominated for such an important category?” 

“Oh, it’s an incredible honour. A little overwhelming, as you can imagine,” Rey flashes the reporter and the camera a winning smile. “But I’m very lucky to be here.”

“And how was it working with Ben Solo? He’s known for being quite demanding,” the blonde asks. “Was the mood on set somber or fun?” 

“He is, that’s true, but only because he wants to make the best film he can and in order for that to happen, everybody needs to be focused and on the same page.” 

“He’s not here tonight?”

“No, he isn’t. He’s not one for big parties, I’m afraid.”

That’s an understatement. If there’s anything Ben hates more than anything in the world, it’s industry parties and award shows. He adamantly refuses to attend these _‘self-congratulatory circle jerk of witless morons_ ’ as he calls them, considering them to be shallow and devoid of any meaning. 

Still, Rey wishes he had come. 

The reposter nods. “And if I may be so bold to ask— there have been certain rumours circulating about you and your co-star Poe Dameron.” Her fake smile morphs into a deep smirk. “Is there any romance in your life right now?”

Rey fights the urge to scowl. She’s had to answer this question more times than she cares to count, and it never stops being irritating, intrusive and more than a little offensive. So far, nobody has asked _Poe_ the same thing. 

“Frankly, I don’t believe that’s any of your business.” Rey’s publicist, who’s standing right behind her, makes a shocked noise, but doesn’t interject. 

“But I would like to make it clear that Poe and I are co-workers and friends. That’s all.” 

If Rey’s words weren’t clear enough, her icy tone and cocked brow certainly are. Before moving on to the next interviewer, Rey stares directly into the camera and adds, “and there _is_ romance in my life, by the way.” 

She smiles, bright and sharp, and walks off, leaving behind a stunned reporter. 

Ten minutes and several, tamer, interviews later, Rey is about to beg her publicist to end her misery when all of a sudden she hears flashes going off, and loud, insistent shouts, much more so than before. It’s coming from further down the carpet, by the wall of photographers Rey walked past earlier.

_‘Solo!’_

_‘Over here, Solo!’_

Rey’s breath catches. _Solo_?

_Could they_?

But no, they’re screaming at somebody else. 

‘ _Mr Solo, on your right, please!_ ’

The crowd clears and Rey can finally see. 

_Ben._

Ben is here, on the red carpet, wearing a tux and looking like the tall, dark and handsome drink of water Rey tried not to gawk at every day on set. 

She usually failed. 

But now she can look to her heart’s content because everyone else is. People are calling out his name, begging for his attention, most likely wondering, like she is, why a guy who is so averse to public scrutiny and always avoids showing up to _anything_ is here, without previous warning. 

He’s walking down the carpet and Rey can see the exact moment when he notices her, because his whole countenance changes. It’s a subtle shift, but for someone who has been observing this man for over a year now, registering all his quirks and tells and filing them away in her mental catalogue of him, it’s obvious. 

He breathes deep, his ample chest rising and falling, like an ocean wave cresting high and pulling back. His eyes, too, go from distant and reserved to open and caring when they fix on hers.

His long legs carry him forward. When he’s within hearing distance, his lips pull up at the corner. Ben extends his hand towards her — a question; an offer. 

“Sweetheart.”

His voice, as familiar to Rey as her own, sounds like comfort. Like home. 

She can’t move, but she does. She’s walking towards him before anybody can tell her otherwise, meeting him in the middle of the carpet, right in front of dozens of photographers with their big, noisy cameras and flashes that look so much weaker now, so unimportant, so irrelevant. All Rey sees is Ben, and all she can think about is that _he’s here_ and all she can feel is his large, warm hand on hers as she laces their fingers together.

“Ben,” she says. In shock, or perhaps awe. 

His hand on hers is her rock, her anchor. He bends down to whisper in her ear. 

“You look stunning.”

Rey feels a shiver trickle down her spine and fists her other hand on his sleeve, needing in some small way to grab, to hold, to pull him even closer. 

She looks up at him, a question in her eyes, a smile on her lips. 

“Ben, you hate awards shows.”

“I do,” he agrees. The look he gives her makes her want to reach up and kiss him in very inappropriate ways. 

“But I love you. And I want to be here when you win, Rey.”

Her smile is wobbly and goofy and Rey knows she’s two seconds away from bursting into ugly, sloppy tears — she’s a bloody actress, she should be able to play this off, but it’s _Ben_ and she can’t. Soon enough, they notice both their publicist silently screaming at them from the sidelines and they reluctantly break away from each other — just a little — and face the cameras head on. 

_‘Are you an item?’_

_‘Miss Jackson, how long have you been together?’_

_‘Mr Solo, are you two dating?’_

They ignore the yelling and the comments and the questions. They give the photographers everything and nothing of what they want — just two people standing together, actress and director, both of them nominees for major categories — holding hands. 

Rey looks up at Ben to try to gauge his reaction. Her love for him at this moment is like an extra limb she carries around in her chest. She wants to tell him how much it means to have him here with her, but the way he’s looking at her now, with whiskey coloured eyes that have seen into her soul and loved every bit of it, tell her he already knows. 

She loves him more than she ever thought she was capable of loving another person. She loves how passionate and intelligent and loyal he is. She loves how much he cares for her. 

And she loves the grumpy frown he has on his face. Such a trademark Ben Solo look. 

“You need to smile for the cameras, husband.” 

Ben huffs out a laugh.

“Don’t push it, wife.” 

And Rey can only laugh. 

When the red carpet ends, they make their way inside the building. They mingle for a bit, greeting friends and acquaintances, before finding their seats and turning their attention to the host. Ben holds Rey’s hand through the entire ceremony. 

When it’s time for her award, his reassuring presence helps Rey focus, breathe and relax. Whatever happens, it’ll all be okay. _Ben’s here._

They announce the nominees. The presenter rips open the envelope. Rey holds her breath. Ben squeezes her hand. 

“ _Rey Jackson!”_

The crowd cheers, but Rey can’t hear anything. She can only feel Ben’s strong arms as they circle around her and help her stand.

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” he says. She thinks he might be crying. She knows _she_ definitely is. 

And then, because she has just won her first major award and because she was in a movie the whole world watched and loved and because she’s standing in a room full of her peers, in the arms of the man she loves more than anything in this world, Rey grabs Ben by the lapels of his suit and pulls him down for a kiss. 

It’s just a peck, because she’s aware she has to go up there and receive her award and give her speech. But she kisses him with all the love that’s been bubbling in her chest since the moment he showed up on the red carpet. 

Later, this will be the picture every publication will use for their cover story. 

She’s on stage before she has time to panic about having to speak to an audience this big. 

“Thank you. This means… so much. I’m honored to be considered among so many beautiful, talented actresses. Your work inspires me in so many ways. I would like to thank everyone who poured their heart and soul into this project, without whom I wouldn’t be here.” Rey stops to catch her breath. She looks around the room at all the faces smiling up at her. There’s only one she wants to see as she says the next bit. 

“Most importantly, I want to thank our director, Ben Solo. Thank you for giving me this part,” she pauses. “And thank you for giving me your last name. I love you, Ben.” 

Their marriage was kept a secret until now. But when people turn around to look at Ben Solo, they all wonder how nobody realized it sooner. 

Ben smiles, wide and proud and happy, and claps louder and longer than any of them. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Me: Did you just write all of this pointless fluff about Famous!Reylo for no reason other than the fact that Adam and Daisy looked hot at the BAFTAS?  
> Also me: ...yes?  
> Me: *long, laborious sigh* Seems on brand.
> 
> You can find me on Twitter/Tumblr @galacticidiots!


End file.
